Exceptional
by TiffaniLouise
Summary: "People have always assumed that I do not have a heart, how wrong they were. My daughter is my heart and like any parent I would do whatever it takes to keep her safe. " Skylar Holmes is exceptional but troubled, it's all going to be ok because she has help at every turn.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

Skylar was stood in the centre of her bedroom, one leg bent slightly with her hands rested on her hips. Her mass of black curls were tumbling dramatically down her back, the front portion pulled back neatly to avoid falling over her face. She was dressed in a white crop top that stopped at her ribs, the black of her bra visible beneath where it clung to her small chest with straight leg dungarees concealing the pale skin of her stomach. The bottom of the light denim dungarees were rolled up just above her ankle. Aquamarine eyes scanned the room with intensity, the blue of her eyes were clouded slightly with green irises closer to the small black pupils.

"Perfect" she practically purred. The word slipping from her naturally rose pink lips, a thin layer of balm was spread across the surface of her lips keeping them from becoming chapped. She was pale, coloured alabaster like her father's, she looked more like Sherlock than she would have liked. Her eyes, hair and skin were all his, as was her slim form and the way her bones protruded slightly at her hips and cheeks.

The room was finally perfect. The walls were all different; the main wall above her bed was decorated with a dark purple wallpaper with a fancy baroque pattern in a slightly lighter shade of metallic purple. The wall directly opposite the door was a dark grey colour with a white skull spray painted between the two large windows. The wall opposite to the bed was decorated with a white and grey forest pattern paper and the wall next to that with the door was painted in galaxy print, the dark background coloured with purple and blue 'galaxies'. Little white splodges were painted as stars in single and cluster form. Over the galaxy painting was the London skyline, tall building's painted in a dark grey and the most recognisable features in a black silhouette (the London eye, London bridge big Ben, the gherkin and house of commons). The Thames had been forged out of a newspaper wallpaper and painted over with a few red water lilies and the quote 'There's nowhere like London. Nothing at all, anywhere' painted in a red scripture through the Thames.

Sherlock had given her free reign of the room, urging her to utilise her artistic talents because this would be a permanent home for them unlike the last few places. A new black wood Victorian style double bed was set up against the wall to the left of the door, against the purple wallpaper. A black desk was placed beneath the skull painting, between the windows with her work set up already on it. A black Victorian style wardrobe and large chest of drawers were against the forest wallpaper on the right side of the room with a large black framed mirror between them. A set of fairy lights were hanging on the mirror and atop of the chest of drawer were various cosmetic items. On the back of the door were some hangers with a coat, scarfs and hats on. All together the room was individual, completely to her taste. Even the purple bed set was perfect, sheets, duvet and a throw over the top with four pillows and decorative pillows as well.

"Skylar" Miss Hudson called from downstairs, judging from the volume she was in the longue calling down. The sound barely made it to the top floor of the house. Skylar let out a content sigh before opening the door into the hallway.

Miss Hudson was like her grandmother, she was kind and understanding. She would always bring up food and drink but insist that she was not their housekeeper, and they had only been there for two days. Of course they had known her before; her dad had ensured Miss Hudson's husbands execution. There had been passing visits so they knew each other but it would be like being smothered by a large caring blanket. Skylar trotted downstairs, her black manicured hands resting on the banister as she went down two flights of stairs. Miss Hudson was stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs with her hand on the banister, a smile wide on her face.

"Have you finished unpacking all your stuff?" the older lady asked as Skylar jumped the last two stairs to stand beside her.

"Yep" she responded, popping the 'p' louder than necessary. "Thanks for letting me paint the room, it feels a lot more homey now."

Miss Hudson smiled at her. "It's my pleasure dear, your father's home and he brought a friend."

Skylar gave a small nod and turned to the closed door of the longue. She pushed it open and stepped into the Sherlock cluttered room. That was a whole new level of necessary clutter which she was used to by now. The curly haired consulting detective was stood next to his desk, scarf and coat both abandoned inside the house. His pristine black suit and a light grey shirt covering his pale skin. He smiled at first glance of his daughter, scanning over her clothes with a less than impressed look gleaming in his eyes. His eyes then glanced towards the red patterned armchair; she followed his gaze to a blonde haired man.

He was sat with his back straight and arms on the chair arms. A cane was rested against the chair and he was looking up at her with blue eyes, a curious expression. So he knew about her, so not surprised, curious, probably wants to know more about her if he was going to move in.

"John Watson" her dad introduced in his silky baritone. Her eyes remained on the ex-army doctor as her father spoke to her. "This is my daughter, Skylar Holmes. Skylar this is John Watson."

"You're here about the spare room" she announced, turning her head to the side slightly.

"Sherlock told you?" he guessed, the rising inflection telling her that he was asking a question of some sort.

"Not a word" Skylar responded, a small grin forming. "Haven't spoken to him since this morning, been too busy decorating and unpacking for pointless conversation. He's never mentioned you before so you're a new acquaintance, an army pension is hardly enough to afford a flat of your own, so flat share, we have a spare room. It's hardly a difficult leap."

John spent a moment looking between father and daughter with small uncertainty. Miss Hudson took this moment to walk in with a smile. "Well, what do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

Skylar didn't bother to hide her amusement at the older lady's comment, laughing wildly as she sat herself down on the sofa. She swung her legs round to the vacant part of the sofa so she was lent against the arm, facing Sherlock and able to see John still. John looked at Sherlock seeking some help but the curly haired detective was looking at something on his desk, completely oblivious to Miss Hudson's insinuation.

"Of course we'll be needing two bedrooms." He managed.

Skylar was still giggling to herself as she responded. Miss Hudson shot her a look that said 'be nice dear' but was faintly amused as she responded. "Oh, don't worry, there's all sorts around here" she continued in a whisper "Mrs Turner next door's got married ones."

This did nothing to end the curly haired girl's laughter. It set her off more than before. Sherlock frowned at his daughter before moving to his armchair, it was a metal framed chair with black leather cushions. He plumped up the cushion before sitting down gracefully, one leg crossed over the other. "Ignore her" he told John sternly.

Skylar gave him the finger as he giggling died down. John glanced at the teenager for a moment before looking back to Sherlock; it was uncanny how similar they looked. Of course he knew that children looked like their parents but Skylar was a younger female version of the consulting detective. "I found your website, _the science of deduction_"

Sherlock smiled proudly. "What did you think?" he asked. Seeing the unimpressed look on John's face his smile fell into a confused frown.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and a pilot by his left thumb" he quoted.

Sherlock spoke up. "Yes, and I can read your military career in your face and leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone."

"How?"

Sherlock smirked as he steepled his hands under his nose so that they were covering his mouth. He glanced at his now placid daughter, winking at her. Skylar smirked and bit down on her bottom lip, pulling it with her teeth. She liked the way 'normal' people were so clueless especially when it came to people with higher intellects.

"Anyway" Skylar spoke into the silence as Miss Hudson bustled around the kitchen in an attempt to clean up after Sherlock. In one swift movement she pushed herself round and onto her feet, gracefully like a cat, her dad had always compared her to a cat because she was agile and light on her feet. "I have things" she wavered in the air "to do, I'll leave you to…bond." She decided with a smirk.

Sherlock didn't respond to this, he hardly ever did. John gave a small nod in understanding as she moved towards the door. Skylar paused before leaving "Your room is on the second floor Doctor Watson, the floor above this, mine is the floor above that, I hope everything is to your liking."

And with that the curly haired girl ducked out the room and made her way upstairs, taking two stairs at a time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

Skylar didn't re-emerge from her room for another few hours, in that time she had done some sketching in her book before taking a nap. Waking up feeling refreshed she headed downstairs to find Sherlock and John still out. They had left not long after she had gone back upstairs, came back separately and gone out again. She rubbed at her eyes, grateful for the lack of make-up that would have smudged the moment her hand touched her eye if she had been wearing any.

The longue was just as cluttered as before, now with a pink suitcase open on a wooden chair that usually sat next to the desk. The curly haired girl ignored the suitcase in favour of settling down in the red chair which she already thought of as John's chair after only seeing him in it once. It was traditional and comfortable; all which she could imagine John being. She curled her legs underneath her body and set out the leather bound sketch pad on her knee, with the pencil balancing between her fingertips. The notepad was like her diary, she drew things in it that she wanted to remember or didn't want to remember but needed to. She opened to the page she had been working on before taking her nap, on which were rough sketches of Sherlock, John and Miss Hudson all stood in the longue.

The drawings were mostly lines with small amounts of shading and details being added. There was still a lot of work to be done on the drawing but it was a start. She put the pencil to the paper, ready to continue with her drawing when a loud knock at the front door disturbed her. Skylar clenched her eyes shut in annoyance and released a long sigh, shoulders dropping down into a slump.

The door opening was followed by Miss Hudson's protests and a group of people ascending the stairs. The door to the longue swung open with a little more force than necessary. _Ahh, Greg was angry this time_.

"Lestrade, I see you brought your underdogs with you this time." She opened her eyes and turned her head.

Greg approached her dad's empty armchair with long but slow steps, his team piling in after him. Greg was dressed in a reasonably priced black suit with a white shirt, no tie and the top button undone. The shirt had small almost invisible square patterns on it; which was tucked into the trousers with a black belt keeping them up. His tanned face had a sorry expression on it as he lowered himself down into the chair. His grey hair was slightly mussed but not excessively, brown eyes pleading with her to not be difficult. Anderson and Donovan went straight into the kitchen with another officer while another two remained in here to look over everything.

"I'm sorry about this Sky" Lestrade spoke finally. The five short words conveying his guilt enough to satisfy her, there was no way he wanted to do this or was enjoying it.

Skylar sat herself up in the chair, closing the sketch pad with the pencil between the pages. "I get it" she assured him. "Dad tends to go off and do his own thing, obviously this time he's been with-holding evidence" she gestured towards the pink case that was set between them. "And this is a drugs bust."

Anderson sniggered in the kitchen. She turned to see him looking over the kitchen table in disgust, the science equipment occupied the whole of the table's surface. It looked like an improvement on his usual facial expression, the slicked back black greasy hair and bent nose were just the topping on the ugly cake. Donovan was sneering at Anderson, looking as tired as ever.

"You do realise that we have only just moved in her, two days ago. The chances of anything remotely interesting being here is highly unlikely." She told him with a frown. It was convincing but Lestrade wasn't stupid, she was just a kid protecting her dad.

"But not impossible" Lestrade confirmed what they both already knew.

"Fine" she sighed loudly, pulling her legs out from beneath her and placing both feet on the floor. "But can you stay out of my room? I have only just finished decorating and organising things in there, I would hate for your sniffer dogs to mess things up. Plus how likely is it that a sixteen year old would have her father's stash, that's if he had a stash, I doubt he would be stupid enough to keep anything in the flat. For the record if I found anything it would be handed over to Mycroft before you could even say drug's bust."

Lestrade nodded. He was used to her by now, she was just like her father, demanding at the best of times. "Leave Sky's room alone. It's on the –"

"- top floor" she finished before him. "John's is the floor above but he has yet to move in, mine the floor above."

Greg's eyebrow practically jumped into an archway. He was biting back a smirk "So, this John Watson fellow is moving in? Your dad brought him to a crime scene earlier, seems like a nice enough guy, fascinated with Sherlock."

"Nothing has been decided as of yet" she admitted, resting the notebook on the small wooden table besides her. Lestrade followed her hand movements, his eyes clasped on her sketchbook which he had been allowed only once to look at. "John needs the danger my father can provide, I'm sure he'll be moved in by tomorrow morning."

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded, striding into the flat with John close behind. She noted the absence of his walking stick, so the limp had been cured already just by tagging along on one case with her dad, _interesting_. The consulting detective turned on the spot, stormy eyes settling on his daughter. "Are you alright?"

Skylar nodded as Greg huffed. "Of course she's alright. We knew you'd find the suitcase, I'm not stupid."

"You cannot just break into my flat" Sherlock looked pissed, eyes flickering between Greg and Skylar. "Especially not when Skylar is here alone, and no, Miss Hudson does not count." He added obviously reading Greg's thoughts, knowing he would bring up that the caring landlady was just downstairs.

"And you can't withhold evidence. I _didn't _break into your flat" Lestrade argued from where he was sat.

Sherlock gestured widely to the officers searching through his belongings. "Then what do you call this?"

Greg smirked and announced cheerily. "It's a drugs bust."

John who had remained silent for the conversation in favour of witnessing Sherlock's protective nature over his daughter, took a step further into the flat and snorted. "Seriously? This _guy_, a junkie? Have you met him?"

Skylar bit at her lip while Greg looked slightly uncomfortable as Sherlock twizzled on the spot to avoid Sky seeing his tight expression. "John" he said quietly, urging the army doctor to stop talking and listen to him.

"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational." John continued.

"John, you probably want to shut up now" the brunette hissed, holding John's gaze. Silence fell between them. Greg and Skylar exchanged a slightly confused look at the intense staring match that had continued and she had to fight the urge to sing 'can you feel the love tonight' as she watched them.

"No" John said in quiet disbelief.

"What?"

"_You_"

"Shut up!" Sherlock turned back to Lestrade, his face stern. "I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No, _Anderson's _my sniffer dog." Greg announced triumphantly. And following the cue, Anderson pulled back the sliding door to the kitchen and gave a small waved of his latex glove covered hand.

Sherlock had been irritated before, but now with the mention of Anderson he was positively volcanic. Skylar knew it was most likely out of hatred for the man, because really the man is an idiot but her dad would be raging at the fact he was in the flat while she was there, unsupervised.

"Anderson" Sherlock spat. "What are you doing here on a drug's bust?"

"Oh, I volunteered" Anderson said, triumph and venom dripping from each word. Skylar then turned her head to glare at him fiercely; Anderson had always reminded her of a snake. Greasy and disgusting without the charm though. He turned back to whatever he was looking at on the kitchen side, desperate to not be the reason for Skylar's harsh glare.

"They all did" Lestrade concluded, he was happy with this outcome. Nothing like rattling Sherlock's cage a bit ebvery now and again. "They're not strictly on the drug's squad, but they're very keen."

"Are those human eyes?" Sally asked disbelievingly, coming around the corner from the kitchen, holding up a jar.

"Put those back!" Sherlock barked at her.

"They were in the microwave"

"It's an experiment" Sky chipped in, completely oblivious to how weird a thing it was.

"Keep looking guys" Lestrade commended the other officers; he stood up and approached Sherlock. "or you could help us properly and I'll stand them down."

"This is childish" Sherlock and Skylar said at the same time.

Greg ignored Skylar in favour of talking to the consulting detective; he didn't have a problem with the kid. "Well I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our cade. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?"

Sherlock stopped his angry pacing to glare at Lestrade. "Oh, what, so you set up a pretend drug's bust to bully me?"

"It stops being pretend if they find anything" Greg's eyes flicked to Skylar for a moment, Sherlock followed his gaze, noticing how she was watching the exchange with raised eyebrows.

"I am clean!" Sherlock announced loudly.

"Is your flat? All of it?"

"I don't even smoke."

"Neither do I."

The two men unbuttoned their cuffs and rolled their sleeved up, showing each other the patched on their lower arm. Lestrade with one patch, Sherlock with three dotted on his pale skin, John frowned, only just processing that Sherlock was an ex-junkie. Skylar shifted in her chair, placing her arms on her legs and leaning forwards slightly.

"So let's work together" Lestrade said as he rolled his sleeve back down again. "We've found Rachel."

"Who is she?"

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

John had shifted closer to Skylar while Sherlock and Lestrade talked. "Are you ok?" he asked.

Sky nodded and looked up at him with a small smile. This was John's caring side, like his doctor side it mattered. Sherlock's harsh baritone broke their small exchanged when he practically shouted. "Why would she still be upset?" Although Skylar and John had not been focused on the conversation even they had picked up on the words, _dead _and _still born_ before Sherlock's outburst.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

The silence was virtually deafening. All eyes were on Sherlock, stunned eyes that were having all suspicions about the consulting detective being a psychopath or sociopath being confirmed in that one sweeping statement that fell out of his mouth effortlessly. John looked stunned but was also slightly embarrassed, not for himself but for the consulting detective and his sixteen year old daughter.

Skylar remained silent like the rest of the room, eyes dropping to the floor instead of staring at her dad. It wouldn't make the statement less true, it wouldn't take it back or stop the pain that the words brought. Sherlock glanced at John awkwardly. "Not good?" he asked, ignorance shining through.

"Bit not good, yeah" John answered, stealing a quick glance at the still frozen police officers, blue eyes stopping on Skylar who was skilfully avoiding all eye contact.

The consulting detective stepped closer to John. "But if you were dying, if you'd been murdered, in your very last few seconds what would you say?"

"Please God let me live."

"Oh, use your imagination."

"I don't have to" John admitted quietly, blinking a few times as Sherlock looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his feet.

"Yes, but if you were clever, really clever…Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers. She was clever." Sherlock started to pace around the space. "She's trying to tell us something."

Miss Hudson appeared in the doorway, face dropping at the sight of the Yarder's riffling through Sherlock and Skylar's belongings. "Your taxi's here, Sherlock" she announced.

"I didn't order a taxi, go away" he snapped.

Skylar's head snapped up, her aquamarine eyes clouded slightly into a dark grey colour. The room was silent, in a perfect state of silent for her, lips were moving, but she could no longer hear anything else. She had blocked it all out, everything. _Taxi_…._taxi….taxi…._It was like a rubber band pinging in her head, the realisation coming through so quickly, what linked all the victims? Who could have abducted them all? Who hunts in a crowd but is invisible?

"Shit" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. Skylar looked up to see most people now looking at her. Her eyes widened, licking her lip. "I just had a brainwave" she explained as she jumped to her feet "I have to do something, its work."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows obviously not convinced but she was technically not lying which he could also tell. "Fine" he managed. "Be careful."

Skylar smirked, placing a kiss on her dad's cheek before ducking out of the door. She grabbed her coat and pulled it on; her phone was in her dungaree pockets as were her keys and some cash. There was nothing else she needed. Her coat was thick and warm, black with leather arms; it reached to her mid-thighs and was comfortable. She went through the front door, allowing it to close naturally behind her as she looked at the man who was casually lent against the black cab. He was old with grey hair a tweed peak cap and metal framed glasses. He looked just like an innocent old man

"Taxi for Sherlock 'olmes" the grey haired man announced, eyes trailing over the young girl with large interest. "But you're not 'im are ya?"

"Well he's a bit busy right now, solving crimes and all that" she replied cheerfully as she jumped down the steps onto the street. She waved her hand "You know how it is."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't need one"

"He doesn't" she concluded. "But I do, if you're willing to take me."

"It would be a pleasure Miss 'olmes" he opened the door wide for her, signalling for her to get in. "You see, no-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like your invisible. Proper advantage for a serial killer."

Skylar takes two steps closer and looks up at the windows of the flat. "Is this a confession? Because a single scream from me would have a team of Scotland Yarder's down here sooner than you could say the word 'guilty'. And that for me wouldn't be a hardship."

"But then you'll never know how I done it" he gleamed, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

"Did it" she corrected with a tut, taking a step closer to the car and ducking in the opened door to the passenger seat. She stole one glance at the flat windows, John was staring out of the curtains to watch her, he looked curious if not slightly worried. "One ride, just because I'm curious and then you're going to prison for the rest of your pathetic miserable life and that is what I call a result."

Jefferson Hope let out a tight laugh as she shut the door to the cab. He drove away with a smug grin as he hummed "Don't worry you're pretty little 'ead, I'm not gonna kill ya, I'm gonna talk to ya. Then you'll kill yourself"

"I. Wouldn't. Count. On. It." She said in response, each word pronounced slowly as a separate sentence, the letters practically rolling off her tongue. The cab pulled away from the curb and onto the London street.

XXXXXX

John lets the curtain fall back into place as he steps away from the window, turning to face the rest of the room. Sherlock and Lestrade are both looking at him expectantly, the worry clear on her face. "She just got in a cab" he announced to them, hoping it would satisfy his curiosity, not that it did much for his own.

"In a cab?" Sherlock questioned. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, they tended to travel by cab the majority of the time. He turned on the spot, looking from John to Greg with an unsatisfied expression.

"Yeah" John confirmed. "She talked to the driver before driving off."

"But why would she talk to the driver? Unless…" he trailed off considering all the possibilities. "The cab that stopped outside of Northumberland street, it wasn't the passenger, it was the cabbie, he stopped and then he came here….for me."

"The taxi you ordered?" Lestrade asked.

"I didn't order a taxi" he snapped.

"Then why was a taxi here?" Greg asked eyes wide in confusion.

"Because he's the murderer, the cabbie he's the murderer" John chipped in, just figuring it out for himself. "And-"

Sherlock interrupted. "And my daughter just willingly climbed into his cab, stupid girl!"

Greg turned to the rest of his officers who had remained silent until now. "Get out and find that taxi, I want to know where it is and where it is going. I want officers there the moment it stops, I want him arrested now."

The officers practically jumped out of their tasks, rushing out of the flat and onto the street.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

Skylar had been sat silently in the back of the cab, slightly anxious but excited to understand exactly how Jefferson Hope made four people kill themselves by talking to them. The turning off of the engine draws her to the surroundings; two identical buildings are stood side by side. Jeff, ever the gentleman, comes round and opens the passenger door for her, looking in the cab at Skylar.

"Where are we?" she asked, glancing up with pretend fear, no doubt by now his other victims would be completely terrified.

Jeff smiled faintly. "You know every street in London, you know exactly where we are."

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College" she drawled, boredom shining through. "And what now? You just walk your victims in? How?"

Jeff pulls a gun out from behind his back and points it at Skylar. "Oh, dull" she comments with an eye roll.

"It gets better –"

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint, you might as well shoot them, I for one would go for the gun."

"I don't need a gun with you though, you're exactly like your dad, and you'll follow. Too curious not to, ain't ya?" Jefferson lowered the gun and walked towards the building.

She purses her lips together as she watches him stroll away, fighting the urge to follow. Instead of sitting and calling for help or even walking away she settles for hitting the cab and following the man. It was inevitable that she would follow him, after all it was a challenge, a puzzle, she wanted to know…no needed to know how he made four people commit suicide. She allowed herself to follow him through a labyrinth of hallways, stopping when they reached a large classroom with a table inside, he sat himself down on one side of the table and gestured for her to take the seat opposite.

"Well, what do you think?" Jeff askes, leaning back in his chair slightly. Skylar shrugs in response. "It's up to you. You're the one who's gonna die 'ere."

"No I'm not"

"That's what they all say." Jeff gestured again to the seat opposite him. "Shall we talk."

Instead of responding, she pulls out the chair and sits down opposite Jefferson Hope, sighing dramatically. "Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eyes of a dozen policemen, they're not _that_ stupid. No doubt Miss Hudson will remember you, we just won't mention my dad."

"You call that a risk? Nah." He reaches into the left pocket of his cardigan. "This is a risk." Jeff takes out a small glass bottle with a screw top on it, placing it on the table in front of him. There is a single capsule inside, she looks at it but doesn't react. "I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this" He reaches into the right pocket of his cardigan and pulls out an identical bottle with an identical tablet inside, and places it beside the first bottle. "You weren't expecting that, were yer? Oh you're going to love this."

"Love what?"

"Skylar 'olmes. Look at you! 'Ere in the flesh, a fan told me about your father's website, about him and about you."

"A fan?" Skylar raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"He's brilliant, a proper genius. You are , a proper genius like 'im. 'The Science of Deduction'.Now that is _proper _thinking. Between you and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think? Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?"

Jeff looks up into Skylar's eyes, she looks back at him for a moment, narrowing her eyes at the realisation, her voice dripping with sarcasm "Oh, I see. You're a proper genius too."

"Don't look it, do i? Funny little man drivin' a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chance are it'll be the last thing you ever know."

Skylar holds his gaze for a second, her head full of sarcastic comments, instead she rolls her eyes and looks down at the table. Deciding it's better to just play along. "Okay, two bottles. Explain."

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die."

"Both bottles are of course identical" Skylar concluded, eyes on the bottles.

"In every way."

"And you know which is which, bit I don't." he nodded in response.

"Wouldn't be a game if _you _knew. You're the one who chooses."

Skylar sighed loudly, sounding like a child asking why she has to go to bed. "Why should I?" She couldn't believe how much she sounded like her father when he was in one of his moods, acting like a child. "I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?"

"Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together we take out medicine." Skylar couldn't help but grin, this was interesting. Dangerous but very interesting. "I won't cheat, it's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't." Skylar ignore him in favour of looking at the two bottles, concentrating on which one to pick. Jeff gave a crooked smile. "I want your best game."

"It's not a _game_, its _chance_." She spat in response. "You risked your life four times to kill strangers, why?"

"Time to play" Jeff changed the subject, nodding down to the two bottles.

Skylar smirked at the response. It was exactly what she had been hoping for. "Oh, I am playing. This is _my_ turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear" she pointed it out "Nobodies pointed it out to tell you, traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no-one to tell you." Jeff squirms under her gaze. "But there's a photograph of children, the children's mother had been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she's still be there. The photographs old but the frame's new, you think of your children but don't get to see them, estranged father, she took the kids, but you still love them and it _still_ hurts. But there's more. Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you're wearing's at least…three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree, what's that about?" Jeff's expression gives nothing away as he gazed back at her, her eyes widen slightly. "Three years ago- is that when they told you?"

"Told me what?" He asks flatly.

Skylar lent forward, leaning her elbows on the table. Expression ecstatic "That you're a dead man walking."

"So are you"

"Am i?" she asked in a teasing manner, looking down at herself with faked uncertainty. "Last time I looked in a mirror I was neither dead nor a man, funny that. Guess you're not a proper genius after all."

"Aneurism" he admitted.

"You're dying so you murdered four people" she said, trying to grasp the logic.

"I've outlined four people."

"No, you're doing this for a reason. I would guess it's your kids, love is a viscous motivator."

"You are good, ain't you?" he looked surprised. "I 'ave a sponsor."

"So you take a life and money goes to your kids, not much money in taxi driving."

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" she asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock 'olmes?" he parred.

"A psychopath would be my first guess" she breathed. "Who else would be a fan of someone like my dad and carry an interest in me also."

"You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there, just like your father and just like you, except Sherlock 'olmes is just a man…and they're so much more than that."

"How can someone be more than a man? An organisation? What?" her noise twitches in distaste as she speaks.

"There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either, Now enough, chatter" he nods towards the bottles "Time to choose."

"What if I don't choose? I could just walk out of here" she gestured wildly to the door, there was nothing stopping her from leaving.

Jeff sighed, lifting the previously seen gun from under the table to point at her head again. "You can take a fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, no-one's ever gone for that option.

Skylar looked at the sad old man holding the gun and smiled calmly. "I'll. Take. The. Gun. Please." She articulated, each word emphasised as a separate sentence.

"Are you sure?" he asked, gun still pointed at her, hand shaking almost unnoticeably.

"Defiantly. The gun" she confirmed, her voice happier than it should have been in that moment.

"You don't want to phone a friend?"

Skylar's smile widened confidently. "The gun."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five **

_"You don't want to phone a friend?"_

_Skylar's smile widened confidently. "The gun."_

Jeff's mouth visible tightens and he slowly squeezes the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle instead of a bullet. Skylar smiles smugly, looking at the gun. "I know a real gun when I see one" she observes. "Do you think my dad would let me walk around the streets of London without some knowledge in certain subjects."

Jeff calmly lifts the fake-gun and releases the trigger, the flame goes out. "None of the others did"

"Clearly" Skylar stands, pushing her chair backwards so that she can walk towards the door. "This has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case."

"Just before you go" he turns calmly in his chair, placing the lighter on the desk and folding his arms over his chest. "Did you figure it out…which one's the good bottle?"

"Childs play" she sung at him.

"Which one, then?" Skylar opens the door a little but shows no signs of leaving the room. Instead she remains on the spot, turned back to look at the cab driver. "Which one would you 'ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?" Skylar releases the door, allowing it to close. Jeff continues, chuckling. "Come on, play the game."

Skylar turns her body to face him fully, arms by her side. The game is exciting but her dad would kill her if he found out, not that that didn't make this whole situation slightly more appealing. Slowly, she walks back into the room, boots clacking. She reaches out and sweeps the bottle nearest to Jeff and walks past him. Jeff looks at the bottle left with interest.

"Interesting" his voice gives nothing away. Skylar can barely hear him as she looks intently at the bottle in her hand, examining the contents with care. "So what d'you think?" he looks up at her, the other bottle in his hand. "Shall we?" She opens the bottle, tipping the capsule into her hand. "Really, what do you think?" Jeff stands up and repositioned himself between her and the door, so that they are facing each other. "Can you beat me? Are you clever enough to bet your life?"

Skylar lifts the pill into the light, looking at it for a moment before lowering it down slowly to eye level, gazing at it. Jeff is silent, not needing to convince her further, there's no doubt that she'll take the pill. Her fingers tremble slightly in excitement and anticipation. Slowly, she moved the pill closer to her mouth. Jeff matches the movement with his own pill.

Just as the pill touches her lips a gunshot rings out. Jeff grunts as the bullet impacts his chest, close to his heart, travelling through his body and smashing into the door behind him. As he falls to the floor, Skylar looks around in shock, the pill surprisingly still in her hand despite the shock. She thrusts the pill into the right hand pocket of her coat before sliding over the desk behind her to look out the window. The window to the opposite building is open, the room identical to the one that she is in. She bends down to stare at the bullet hole in the glass, there is no one in sight, and she straightens up. Jeff breathes heavily and coughs from where he is lain on the floor.

Skylar turns and make her way back over to him, leering over the bullet ridden old man. His face is consorted in pain and shock as he looks up at her, a pool of blood forming underneath his shoulder. "Was I right?" she asked forcefully. Jeff turns his head away. "Fine, tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me and my father, his 'fan'. I want a name."

"No" Jeff manages.

"You're dying but there is still time to hurt you. Give me a name" she demands, placing her foot on the shoulder, over the bullet wound. Jeff gasps in pain. "A name" she demands, louder and more forceful than the first time, applying more pressure with her foot. He cries out in pain. Skylar face is determined and she shifts all the weight onto the foot on his shoulder. He whines in pain. "The NAME!"

"Moriarty" he cries out in agony before closing his eyes. His head rolls to the side lifelessly. Skylar steps back, looking around the room.

"Moriarty" she says quietly to herself.

"Skylar" a deep baritone called out. The door swung open to reveal a frantic Sherlock, his eyes wide, taking in the scene in a few seconds. His stormy eyes went straight to his daughter, looking her up and down for signs of injury. He gracefully avoided the dead body of Jefferson Hope, rushing to embrace his daughter. Skylar was pulled into a tight hug, her arms instinctively wrapping around her father as he held her tightly. Her head rested on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against her forehead. "Are you alright?" he asked in a hushed tone.

She nodded against his shoulder. They remained this way for a few minutes before they parted, he lead her from the room in silence, taking her outside to where police cars were pulling up. She was placed in the back of an ambulance with an orange shock blanket over her shoulders.

"So the shooter…no sign?" Skylar asked.

Sherlock and Greg were stood in front of her, discussing the way in which the murders worked.

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him…" the detective inspector shrugged "…got nothing to go on."

"I owe them my life" she stated as a matter of fact. "I fell for it, he convinced me to take the pill, I was going to do it, just to prove how smart I am. A stupid reason to die, I don't even know if I got the right pill." She reached into the pocket and pulled out the pill, handing it to Lestrade. "That's the pill I picked, his fell on the floor when he got shot, I don't know where it went."

Sherlock stared at his daughter for a long moment before continuing with the grey haired detectives line of enquiry. "The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until she was in immediate danger, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a an probably with a history of military service…" Skylar has been looking around as her father was talking, turning her head to see John standing behind the police tape, looking calm with his arms crossed behind his back. He looks at her innocently, before turning his head away. Sky's mouth drops open in surprise, John was the shooter, is the shooter, there are too many connections for it to be a coincidence. "…and nerves of steel…"

Skylar cuts her father off by coughing loudly, bringing all attention to her. "Are you okay?" the grey haired detective asks, as she brings her hand to her mouth to conceal her fake coughing.

Sherlock raises one eyebrow questioningly. His daughter flicks her gaze to john, following it Sherlock see's John and realisation sets in. "Actually, do you know what? Ignore me." He says quickly, attempting to dismiss everything he's just deduced.

"Sorry?" Lestrade asks.

"Ignore all of that. It's just the…"

"Shock talking" Skylar finished for him, jumping to her feet. They both begin to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade asks, confused.

"I need to talk about the-" Sherlock started.

"The rent" she finished for him again, glancing at her dad in the process.

"But I've still got questions for you"

Skylar turned around dramatically to face the detective inspector. Irritation drowning her voice "Oh, what _now_? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" she flaps her arms in the blanket, brandishing it for all to see.

"Skylar…Sherlock" he grumbles in response, obviously not happy about this.

"And I just caught you a serial killer…more or less."

"Tomorrow" Greg finalised, looking between the father and daughter in confusion. "I want your statements, first thing. Off you go you two."

Skylar skipped ahead of her father, throwing the orange blanket into an open car window before ducking under the tape and standing in front of the ex-army doctor. They stared at each other for a while, blue eyes against grey ones for a moment. Taking him by surprise she jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. Rather hesitantly John hugged her back, arms wrapping around her back. "Thank you" she whispered, loud enough for Sherlock to hear her. "Good shot" she commented as she pulled back.

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window." John said, trying and failing to look innocent as he looked between the consulting detective and his daughter.

"Well, _you'd_ know" Sherlock concluded. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course I'm alright" John insisted.

"Well, you have just killed a man."

"Yes, i…But he wasn't a very nice man."

Skylar smirked. John added "And a bloody awful Cabbie."

Both men laughed at her comments as they started to walk away. She was between the two men, Sherlock on her left with his arm wrapped around her shoulder and John next to her. Skylar grabbed the doctor's hand, John smiled, not commented and gave her hand a slight squeeze.

"It's true, he was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took to get us here" She smiled, John laughed in response.

John stopped, pulling them to a halt, where his hand was intertwined in hers. "You were going to take the pill weren't you?" he asked, a serious tone.

Skylar gulped. "I was buying my time..." she lied unconvincingly before adding on "…I knew you'd show up sooner or later, you were watching me out the window, saw me leaving the cabbie, I knew dad would put it together even if he was being a tad slow today. But in answer to your question, yes, I was going to take the pill. I may be smart but I'm stupid, I would have taken it to prove I was right. That's the kind of person I am."

"Then you are stupid" John concluded "or too smart for your own good."

"Runs in the family" Sherlock added with a small smirk.

John gave a tight smile, unable to stop himself from being slightly entertained by the pair. They were completely bonkers but the perfect example of a dysfunctional family, and for some reason he couldn't help but feel glad that he was going to be part of it, even if he would just be on the side-line as a friend. He looked around for a moment, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of a tall man with dark hair, pushed back off his face neatly, wearing a three piece suit.

"Sherlock, that's him, the man I was talking about" he announced, gesturing to the dark haired man who was lent against a blacked out car, with a dark haired woman stood beside him, mobile phone in hand.

"I know exactly who that is!" Sherlock spat, striding off towards the man.

"Another case cracked." Her uncle Mycroft observed. Skylar wanted to laugh at him, he always did this intimidating act with new people. He kidnapped them, offered them money to spy and was pleasantly surprised when someone like John didn't accept the money.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, venom dripping from his voice.

"As ever, concerned about you" Mycroft responded.

Skylar skipped past Sherlock and John, wrapping her hands around Mycroft and pulling him into a hug. The British government smiled, relaxing as he brought his arms around his niece to hug her back. "My, have you been offering people money to spy on us again?" she teased.

"My?" John repeated, the rising inflection signalling it was a question. He looked very confused.

"Yes" Sherlock responded, answering his question. "This is my brother, Mycroft"

John looks at the three of them in amazement. Sherlock standing tall, his composure rigid as he watched his daughter and brother pull back from their hug, Mycroft was smiling wildly at his niece, with fondness. "He's _your_ brother" John asks, still unsure.

"Of course he's my brother"

"So he's not…"

"Not what?" Sherlock asked, stormy eyes gazing at John.

John looks at the brothers, shrugging in embarrassment. He continues "I don't know, a criminal mastermind?"

"Close enough" Sherlock looks his brother up and down.

"He occupies a _minor _position in the British government" Skylar announces in a mocking tone .

"He is the British government" Sherlock clarifies for John, gesturing with his hand at his brother. "When he's not too busy being the British secret service or the CIA on a freelance basis."

Skylar took a step away from her uncle, remaining between the two brothers. She smiled; this was obviously not an unusual occurrence between them. "We should get going" she suggested "I fancy some Chinese."

Sherlock nodded in confirmation, extending his arm as Skylar took a step closer to her father, allowing him to wrap his arm around her shoulder. They both walked away, John taking a moment to watch before following them. "Goodbye Mycroft" She called back to her uncle.

"So Dim Sum" John started, catching up with them.

Sherlock smirked. "I can always predict the fortune cookie"

"No you can't" Sky disagreed.

"Almost can" he insisted. "You did get shot though."

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound." Sherlock re-worded.

"Oh yeah! Shoulder"

"Shoulder, I thought so."

"No, you didn't"

Skylar lent her head on her father's shoulder, nuzzling in slightly closer to his neck. "The left one" she stated.

"Lucky guess" John muttered.

"I never guess" she clarified, Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"What are you so happy about?" Sherlock asked his daughter, arm tightening around her slightly.

"Moriarty" she answered. "Jefferson Hope, told me that he was being sponsored to kill, he was getting money for his kids for each murder. Apparently he's a fan of yours dad, knows about you and me. I got the name out of him when he was dying…M-O-R-I-A-R-T-Y" She repeated, pronouncing each letter separately as she thought about it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six**

Sherlock stopped in the longue doorway, his coat and scarf were in the hallway, and there were no need for them inside. But that's not why he paused, he stopped because of what he saw: John and Skylar were sat together on the sofa, close together, leaving enough room for another body. John was on the left, pressed against the side of the sofa with his body slightly turned towards her, dressed in his usual jeans and a shirt while Skylar was lent against him, her head on his shoulder. Their eyes were on the television, watching a film or something. He couldn't help but see how relaxed the pair of them were, they had only known each other for four months, but in that time he couldn't deny how close the pair had gotten. It was different with him and Skylar they were related, small amounts of trust were already there. But John was not family, he was a stranger…now a friend. And his daughter trusted him.

He smiled to himself. The trust between John and Skylar was perfect, it had been too long since she had allowed herself to trust a man. He noted that his daughter was in her usual relaxed attire, a pair of sleeping shorts, baby blue and white stripped with a white vest top.

"Are you going to stand in the doorway for the rest of the night?" Sky asked, turning to face her father.

Sherlock snapped out of his daze, a smile playing on his lips. "May I join you?" he asked, he already knew the answer but asked anyway.

Skylar pursed her lips like she was considering it, turning her head to look at John. "Of course you can Dad" she announced, smiling at him.

Sherlock took the seat next to her, arm instinctively going to the back of the sofa around his daughter, his hand brushed lightly against the back of John's neck almost mechanically. John didn't react, the only sign that he had noticed was the smile he was fighting to suppress by pursing his lips. Skylar lent into her dad's arm, head resting on his collar bone, eyes still looking at the television. They were watching Skyfall, the new James Bond film which John absolutely loved. Sherlock's other arm went to the arm of the sofa, tapping lightly on the leather material.

"How was your day?" Sherlock asked. John would normally be surprised by Sherlock's conforming to social niceties, but he had learnt in the time he had known him that Sherlock cared about his daughter, and actually took an interest in her life.

"Fine" she responded. "Class was fine, I guess, the teacher was talking nonsense though, I had coffee with Louise after. It was nice. Did you solve the case?"

"Of course I did" he answered, not sounding offended in the slightest.

"That's because you're a genius" she responded, a yawn escaping her lips. Sky lent closer to her dad, nuzzling her face further into her collar bone.

"As are you" he smiled, eyes flicking at John who was watching the pair in admiration.

Not ten minutes later the credits were on screen and Sky was fast asleep, her breathing even against Sherlock's neck. His arm was tight around his daughter, supporting her sleeping body against his own. John switched the tele off and looks at his friend, a smile playing at his lips.

"You have something on your mind John?" Sherlock asked, stormy eyes meeting his friends over his daughter's head.

"No, no...well yes, it's just I would never have you pegged as the fatherly type."

"It didn't come naturally" the consulting detective admitted.

"But it's obvious to anyone that sees you together that you care about her, and she cares about you."

Sherlock ran his hand through his daughter's wild curls. "We're too alike, we clash a lot but somehow it works, I have no idea how. She looks like me, sounds like me, has the same mind as me, she even acts like me – she isn't cold or uncaring but she developed it from me, she doesn't want to get hurt or let anybody too close."

"She let me close" John interjected.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "That's what surprises me, within hours of meeting you, she hugged you. She doesn't enjoy physical contact with people unless she has some degree of trust in them, she touches me because I'm her father and she trusts me more than anybody else. That's why we are so close."

"Can I ask you a question?" John shifted on the sofa, turning to face Sherlock.

"You just did" he wittily responded, a smug grin.

John chuckled. "Can I ask you another?" Sherlock gave John that 'really?' look. John sighed, realising he had just asked another question. "How did this happen? I mean with Sky, how did everything happen?"

Sherlock exhaled a large breath, closing his eyes for a few moments longer than necessary. "It's not a story that I tell often, she doesn't like me telling it, prefers to tell it to people herself and one day she might tell you, but in this case, you deserve to know. You do live with us after all. Skylar was the consequence of a one night stand while I was in university. Her mother was smart, a drama major, it was a onetime thing. She told me when she found out that she was pregnant, her initial reaction to abort the child, that obviously didn't happen. I decided to play a part in her life, I didn't want her to not know who I was, Mycroft and my parents had similar views. We shared joint custody."

"Where's her mother now?" John interjected.

"That's where this gets difficult to explain, first let's set some context." Sherlock insisted. "Laura, Skylar's mother never had much interest in raising Skylar, she let me pick her name, even though she hated me towards the end of her pregnancy, we were never on the best of terms. When my drug habit spiralled out of control, I lost my rights to visitation. It wasn't until Skylar was older, her mother was something of a failing actress, with a habit of picking up partners that showed more interest in his twelve year old daughter. With my custody gone, I had nothing to pull me out of using, but Mycroft contacted me with a different tactic, he told me of the life my daughter was living. I got clean, got my custody and took her out of that life. She has lived with me ever since, her mother doesn't bother contacting unless she needs something, usually money which I am not at liberty to give. We haven't seen her in over a year."

"That's wow" John managed, glancing down at the floor. "A mother who doesn't care about her and a father who is an ex-junkie, that's tough. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"No" Sherlock frowned "I agree, no child should have to face that alone."

"And her mother's partners?" John dared himself to ask.

"There were three men who showed interest, one who did more than that but she refuses to give a name to me or Mycroft. She prefers to forget about it , to leave it in the past. She's a budding artist, she channels her emotions into that, or she suppresses them, hides them in the furthest regions of her mind palace." Sherlock continued. It might not be his story to tell but he was right, John deserved to know everything about them. He was their friend and flatmate, which meant he would sooner or later get dragged into some of their shit. It would happen. "She knows we're here for her if she ever needs us, we will always be there."

John nodded. "I'm honoured to be part of -" he gestured around. "Whatever this is, this life and this family, however dysfunctional it may be, I'm honoured that you chose me."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at John's revelation. "People have always assumed that I do not have a heart, how wrong they were. My daughter is my heart and like any parent I would do whatever it takes to keep her safe." He sighed. "I haven't always been there for her, but ever since I gained full-custody of Sky, she has been my top priority, everything I do, I do for her benefit, even if it may not seem like that at first. She really is my top, my only priority, John. If I disappoint you in any way, in the past or in the future, remember that, remember that I love my daughter, I do have the capability to love."

Silence fell between the two men; only the sound of Skylar's even breathing filling the void of soundlessness. The London street still moved outside the windows. John looked again at the sleeping form of Skylar, lent against her father, arms tucked between her and her father's chest, legs bent on the sofa. "Thank you, thank you for telling me, that can't have been easy for either of you, and I'm glad I can be part of this…family." He tested the waters, not sure how it would sound, Sherlock didn't comment on the word choice, something he would usually do. Instead he gave a lopsided grin and sat up slowly, bringing his daughter up with him. Instead of moving her, or taking her to bed, he lifted her up slightly and pushed his legs under her form onto the sofa, so that he was half-laying on the sofa. Skylar shifted but didn't wake, she was lain next to her father, head on his chest.

John smiled, picking up and blanket and laying it across the pair. Sherlock mouthed a thank you before he ducked out of the room, leaving Sherlock Holmes holding his sleeping daughter on the sofa. And in that moment no-one could say that he wasn't a good father.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter seven

Mycroft sighed. He often visited his brother to request his help for cases that required the leg work he wouldn't consider doing for himself. So here he was, at Baker Street, it was quarter to seven, and the flat was silent, well beyond Mrs Hudson's moving around. He looked down at the sofa with a small smile, covered by a blanket were his brother and niece. Sherlock was rested against the arm of the sofa, reclined with a pillow under his head, long limbs stretched over the sofa, with Sky spread out across him. She was on the side closest to the back of the sofa, one leg throw over her dad carelessly, her head rested on his shoulder, face tucked into the sleeping consulting detectives neck. Her hands were pressed against her father's chest, fingers caught in the material, gripping on for dear life.

Mycroft placed himself in the arm chair, which was normally reserved for one John Watson. He took the pocket watch from the pocket of his waistcoat, opening the gold watch and glancing at the time.

John appeared from the stairs, glancing at Mycroft with brief curiosity but he was far too tired to comment. Instead he gave a small wave in his direction before glancing at the consulting detective and his daughter, still fast asleep on the sofa. "She has college in half an hour" John groaned, he hated having to wake either of them. They could be real crabby in the mornings. Mycroft gave a small nod of confirmation, as he observed the army doctor. It was remarkable how well he fit into the dynamics of 221B.

John ran a hand through his sleep mussed blonde hair before shaking the pair of them awake. He was met with a groan from the consulting detective and a muffled "five more minutes" from Skylar. He couldn't help but smirk.

"Unless you want to be late for college, I suggest you get up and get ready."

Skylar's eyes flicked open and her head rose quickly, too quickly. She rolled off her father, off the sofa and landed on all fours on the hard wood floor, like a cat. Sherlock woke as soon as she rolled off of him. "Shit" she cursed before jumping up and running out of the room, straight into the unoccupied bathroom.

"What do you want Fatcroft?" Sherlock spat, rubbing at his sleepy eyes.

"Be nice" John scolded his flatmate.

"Fine, what do you want Mycroft?" Sherlock rephrased, tone betraying him, he really didn't want to speak to his brother. Not bothering to move from his position on the sofa, instead he remained lain down with his hair messed and eyes sleepy.

"I have a case –" he started, pausing at the sound of something smashing in the bathroom followed by the curse 'holy mother of Christ' in an angry term. He smirked and continued eyes on Sherlock as his lips also turned up into an amused smirk. "I have a case that requires your immediate attention, a colleague of mine has recently got himself into a spot of bother, and an associate of his had gained some rather sensitive information."

Sherlock frowned in distaste, the case sounded positively dull. John chose that moment to return with three cups of tea, placing one on the table beside Mycroft and handing one to Sherlock as he sat down next to him. The consulting detective smiled and gave a small nod in thanks which made John smile as he sipped at his tea. "I refuse to spend Christmas at the manor, me and Sky will spend Christmas here, this year."

The smirk fell straight off Mycroft's face. He replied with distaste "Fine, but you do two other cases for me and Sky must see Mummy on boxing day."

"Done" Sherlock responded enthusiastically. "I'll need whatever files and information that you have on the case."

The door to the bathroom opened, revealing Skylar dressed in a short satin robe, black curls falling in wet ringlets around her face. "There's a broken glass in the bathroom" she announced, wincing as she sucked on the cut on her thumb. She waltzed through the longue and into the kitchen, calling back. "In my defence it shouldn't have been on the sink, stupid place to keep a glass. Who left it there anyway?"

"You did" Sherlock responded.

Skylar re-emerged into the longue with a confused look on her face, a piece of bread in her hand. "Are you sure?" she questioned, eyeing up her father. "I'm sure I would have remembered something like that."

"College" Sherlock reminded. Sky's face dropped into a frown, sighing she walked briskly out of the room and upstairs. The upstairs bedroom door slammed shut just as the doorbell rang, Sherlock sighed, and one unwanted visitor was enough for this time of morning. Miss Hudson would answer the door, meaning that he wouldn't have to. Sky ran back downstairs and into the doorway, now dressed in a sheer black shirt tucked into a pair of red shorts, one knee high black sock on and the other foot bare. The black bra beneath her shirt was still visible and her hair still wet, the curls forming wildly.

"That will be Daniel, let him up and tell him to wait for me" she commanded, starting back up the stair again.

Sherlock's head peaked, looking around "Daniel? Who is Daniel?"

There was a loud sigh in response. "A friend, were on the same course, he's borrowing a book and were walking together." She shouted before continuing up the stairs and once again into her room.

Miss Hudson came into the longue, followed by a brown haired boy dressed in a pair of light skinny jeans and a black top, with a worn leather jacket over the top. He smiled at them, brown eyes bright as he took in his surroundings. "You must be Daniel" Sherlock spoke in a harsh tone, eyeing up the boy with a gleam in his eyes, the deduction gleam John like to call it.

"You must be Sky's Dad" he smiled, stepping further into the room. "She talks about you all the time, is it true that you consult the police?"

"Yes" Sherlock started.

Sky emerged from the stairs and interrupted him. "No Dad, no deducing my friends." The dark haired girl was now fully dressed, the other sock had been put on along with some black boots and a leather jacket. Her hair was still damp but no longer dripping wet, the long strands curling naturally. Her eyes blue and lined with mascara and lips painted blood red, she looked at her friend with a smile. "Hey, Dan. This is obviously my Dad, John and my Uncle Mycroft."

Dan smiled in response, eyes now on Skylar as she walked over to the book case and picked out two large books, placing one in his hand and the other in her black backpack. "Thanks, have you got everything for this afternoon's project?"

Skylar groaned and shot daggers at her friend, knowing the three men and Miss Hudson would be looking at her with curiosity. "Yep" she popped the 'p' exaggeratedly.

"You have a project this afternoon?" John questioned, saying exactly what everyone was thinking.

"Yeah, not really your guys thing though, otherwise I would have invited you." She answered with a fake sad expression.

Dan narrowed his eyes. "Why wouldn't they be interested? You're the model for the whole photo-shoot, from which we'll be creating paintings that will become part of an exhibit."

"Well" she managed, blushing. "They don't like water… or painting…or anything, come on let's go." She commanded.

Dan laughed but followed obediently, waving in goodbye and leaving the four speechless in their wake. Sherlock frowned, pursing his lips as he thought.

Mycroft sighed "The case?"

"Oh yes" he tapped John's shoulder "I'll get my best man onto it, I have somewhere to be this afternoon."


End file.
